


Mysterium

by Senkaitae



Category: Marvel, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Loki is bored with Asgard, M/M, No Watson, Not Canon Compliant, Somewhat Au?, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senkaitae/pseuds/Senkaitae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock takes on a silly case and finds something he's quite unsure of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Porcelain

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first try at anything ship-wise. It's awfully non-canon but that's okay right? *cries in corner*  
> It's in progress and i'll put in work on it when I can. Enjoy.

      The day began normal. I woke up, groaning and mumbling on, standing with nothing but the bed sheet to shield me. I rubbed my eyes before walking like the drunkard I was last night to the bathroom. I glanced into the mirror I was trying to avoid and looking at myself I rubbed my eyes once more. It was more than easy to read 'hungover' just painted all over me.  
      I groaned loud, suddenly remembering about the case I had tonight. It was scheduled for late 7 O' clock. Apparently, the clients wanted me to check up on why, and how, things were randomly disappearing in their home. A strange case I may point out, seeing as they immediately resorted to claiming it a ghost. I don't do ghost hunts, but what they had informed me had me intrigued.  
     Glancing at the clock on my mobile my eyes widened. I had slept all the afternoon away and nearly the evening as well. It was already 5. I rushed into my room, throwing the sheet off and onto the bed set. Quickly I grabbed and forced on a white button-up polo, and a pair of dark black jeans. Fixing the collar on it, I glanced into my body mirror. "No, that won't do." I groaned and yanked pants I were last night off the ground.  
      I scrambled through the pockets until I found my comb, then it found its place jabbing through my hair. Once it felt normal to me I looked back into the mirror, and smiled. Much more fitting. I nodded, then headed out, grabbing onto my coat and slipping it on simultaneously.  
     I headed down the west side of town until I got close to the home. I looked around for anything simple to waste my time in, and noticed a treat shop. I lifted a brow before going in. There were cookies, cupcakes and all sorts of muffins. I picked between and ended up with a bag of treats. When I walked back out I checked my mobile to realize somehow it moved to 6:54 already. I ate the rest of the cookie I had hanging from my mouth and headed into the home.  
      Walking in I saw nothing out of the ordinary. I decided to walk around and mess with the random things catching my eye. Eventually I got bored with it and decided to go to the upper floor. Reaching it I noticed it was mostly one room, but had what looked like a built in wall for another room. I ignored it for a moment. Spotting a collection of small porcelain items on a table and cocked my head then walked over to them.  
      I glanced down at one and picked it up without hesitation. Almost in sync with the grasp a dark figure appeared in the corner of my eye. I turned around immediately and stared straight at it. At first, it seemed a man that was looking down, so he hadn't noticed me. When he looked up at me, he jolted back and held his arms up. "Nice skills. Didn't even notice you."  
      I glared at him, his voice was so flat i was unable to tell if it were mockery or that he was serious. But giving him a harder look I noticed how miserable he seemed. There was so much loneliness, stress, and just every bundled fear locked up inside him. He was nearly my doppelganger. "So, what are you doing here?" He asked. "Me? Are you not the owner?" At that moment his face showed shock, then he stopped and burst out into laughter. I didn't understand what was so hilarious, so I took the chance to examine him.  
      He had a horizontal stripped sweater on, colours black and dark green, matched with black silk seeming pants. His hair was long, and as curly as my own. He looked to be in his pajamas, as if he just woke up. Once he finally stopped I noticed he had dim, blue aquamarine eyes. But around the dim blue there was full black. I could tell it wasn't natural. "Yea, I wish." He had a serious tone, then he walked over and slumped into the futon by the farthest wall. "Then may I inquire who you are?"  
      "Are you religious?" I cocked my hand and gave a confused stare, but then gave him a shrug. "Well I'm that so called 'ghost'." I continued the stare, even more lost. "I'm... kind of a big deal." Are you serious? A "ghost", eating from the pantry, a "big deal"? This must be a joke. I ended up making myself chuckle just thinking of it all.  
      "Well, Mr. Big-Deal, I am Sherlock Holmes." His look became less anger now and more curious joy. "The Consulting Detective?" I nodded with a grin and he smiled at me. "Then you should already know who I am." "Not your name." He hesitated before exhaling and looking straight into my eyes. "You have nice eyes, Detective." "Stop dodling." "Loki." I paused. "Loki?" I repeated. Isn't all that a simple myth?  
      He grinned and sat up, seating himself on the edge of the futon with his hands in his lap, fingers overlapped. "Yes. Would you like some proof?" "What kind of proof can you muster?" My brain screamed 'you idiot' as soon as I let that out. If he is truly Loki, the Norse God of Mischief, it'd be easy for him to simply kill me as proof. At first I was startled, but then I was befuddled and slapped my palm to my face.  
      There was a large grin on his face as he looked over at his newly created twin. I sighed, noting that it was enough and with that he flipped his wrist and the figure was gone. "Now, do you believe me?" "I never said I didn't." He mad an unsatisfied noise, nearly a pout. His face was in his hands by his knees, as if he were to cry any moment. I couldn't stand the thought of anyone getting emotional near me at that time. "Come." He flashed his head up to glare at me.  
      "Come? Where are you thinking of taking me at this hour?" I groaned. As if it were his home and he could stay here. "You do not belong here. You are coming with me, to my flat." He seemed to perk up then. I watched him curiously as he rushed down the stairs, then came back up only moments later. "Well? You coming?" I let out a sigh and nodded, pacing after him and hearing a low giggle come from him.  
      Once we were out the door he flung his arms open and spun around. He inhaled, and exhaled heavily then stood still. "I forgot what it felt like out here." I huffed. "Has it really been that long since you've left these people be?" He glared at me with that and crossed his arms. I chuckled at the sight and attempted to call a taxi. A couple flung by, as if ignoring me completely. Loki swung me back snapping out, "You're doing it wrong!", waving his hand furiously towards multiple taxis. Within a minute one pulled up to us. "See?" I shrugged, and immediately got in. Loki groaned and got on the side, obviously unhappy with the situation.   
      "221B Baker Street." I said clearly, the taxi man nodding and beginning to drive. Of course, it wasn't a far ride and we most certainly could have walked. But, I refused to allow Loki to suck up more attention than he already had. Once the cab came to a stop Loki immediately lunged out and ran straight for the door, arms crossed and folded. "Well you're certainly patient."


	2. Chapter 2

Huffing and glaring at me, he mumbled under his breath. With a sigh I unlocked and opened the door, welcoming him in. He drug his feet up until we got to the main room and he found the sofa and sat down without a word. "You sure seem excited to be here." Immediate glare. Maybe sometimes I should watch what I say? Ah, but that would be no fun now would it?  
I smirked and looked over my shoulder at him. "Tea?" "Earl. 2 teaspoons sugar." The smirk didn't move. "Sounds like you know your tea." He gave no response other than a hum of amusement. At least, that's what I believe it to be. After searching the cabinets I finally found a packet of Earl tea. Of course, He must be a lucky man because there was only 3 left.   
"Three is a magic number, correct?" I looked back at him. "Well it depends on the situation. Seven is also known to be a 'magic number'. If not simply Lucky." We both chuckled. What for, i'm sure we both didn't know. Must have been the pressure in the room at the moment. 


End file.
